


Toward the Light

by B1nary_S0lo



Series: Aylwen Lavellan [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Afterlife, Death from Old Age, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Old Age, Post-Trespasser, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/B1nary_S0lo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the Inquisition, an elderly Aylwen sits alone by the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toward the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cullavellan Week 2016, Day 7: Happily Ever After
> 
> Schmaltz ahead! You've been warned.

In her rocking chair by the window, Aylwen dozed. The sun was warm on her face, and the voices of her grown children drifted into the sitting room from the kitchen. It was a good afternoon, one where she didn’t need to do anything but sit and rest. Not that there was much else she could do, as of late. Little by little, she was slowing down.

She shifted in her chair, letting heavy sleep settle around her. Birds chirped somewhere nearby and wind rustled through far off leaves. Only one thing could have made this moment better, more complete.

Her chest tightened painfully, but she was so accustomed now to the feeling of missing him that it was almost bittersweet. She swallowed and, as she often did when she felt like this, opened and closed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as if an imaginary palm rested over hers.

“I miss you,” she said. She said it so faintly it was even less than a whisper, a slight movement of her lips.

The wind murmured through the leaves again, seemed to answer, _I know._

She heard movement nearby, a slight creak of the floorboards. Perhaps one of the children was coming in to check on her. Either way, she didn’t stir. Too comfortable and so, so tired.

The footsteps stopped, and the floor creaked again as someone knelt in front of her. She felt a warm, strong hand settle over hers.

“Ayly,” he said. “Open your eyes.”

She blinked them open, somehow not surprised to see Cullen sitting in front of her. He was young and strong again, face only faintly lined, as it had been when they’d first met, and mouth curled up at the corner. She was not surprised, but still she reached out and touched his face.

“You came back,” she said. Her voice broke, almost indignant. “I waited so long.”

“I know,” he said. There was a laugh in his voice, but his eyes were warm. He reached up to cup her face in return, fingers settling in her hair. “I’m here now.”

She leaned into his touch as he let his fingers slide along her cheek and away. He got to his feet, bent, and held out a hand to her. The gesture called to mind a time long ago when they’d danced.

“Come on,” he said.

She stood up, and once again felt no surprise when she realized that she, too, was young and strong once more. On legs that didn’t ache or protest, she stepped forward and placed her hand in his.

“I’m ready when you are,” she said. He grinned.

He moved closer and their lips met briefly in a kiss that held a promise. Then they came apart and, together, turned toward the light.


End file.
